


One Night in Cardiff: A David and Billie Sex Tape

by thebaddestwolf



Category: Doctor Who RPF
Genre: F/M, One Shot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-20
Updated: 2014-02-20
Packaged: 2018-01-13 03:13:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1210537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebaddestwolf/pseuds/thebaddestwolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>David and Billie find themselves alone in the trailer after they light the Christmas lights in Cardiff, and David puts his videocamera to good use.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Night in Cardiff: A David and Billie Sex Tape

The heated air hits them like a tropical breeze as they stumble into the trailer, a stark contrast to the frigid Cardiff night. Billie giggles as David rubs her arms through her leather jacket in a futile attempt to warm her, the chill having long since penetrated through her skin, bones, and to the core.

“Shall we have another Irish coffee?” she asks, raising a brow, shivering under his palms. Outside the trailer, they can hear a fan yelling their names.

“You read my mind,” he replies, crossing the few steps to the kitchenette and fishing out the bottle of whiskey they’d hidden in the cabinet. He’s humming something unintelligible, a Christmas song no doubt, and dances from one foot to the other as he pours two cups of coffee.

“Look how giddy you still are!” Billie laughs, leaning against the counter.

“Course I am, that was mental,” he exclaims, grinning as he tops off their drinks with liquor. “Come on, admit it – you’ve never done anything quite like that.”

“I’ve seen a stage or two in my day,” she smirks, taking the mug he offers her and wincing at the bite of the liquor as she takes a sip.

“Yeah, but none with a plasma ball,” he says, waggling his eyebrows.

“True, none with a plasma ball,” she smiles. “And none with you.”

He had been wanting to kiss her all night, before the car had even picked him up, and the feeling intensified when he learned she was stuck in traffic on the sodding M4. But she had made it, all bright eyes and bouncy steps, and suddenly he found a new affinity for that bloody camera the producers make him carry around to film the mundane moments of his life.

But with Billie nothing is mundane, not even the mundane bits, because everything she does he sees with new eyes. He finds himself taking pleasure in her simplest actions; the way her lips move slightly as she reads, the way she fiddles with her necklace when she’s bored, the way she caresses her collarbone when she’s thinking.

She’d had that effect on him since they met, even before that night a few weeks ago when they’d stayed up late reading lines until the scripts were on the floor and she was in his lap and he felt like he’d finally come home.

Earlier that evening David was filming one of those mundane moments – she was applying concealer in the trailer mirror – when he realized that whatever was happening between them was more than merely a fling.

She was simply dabbing at her face, but his mind sketched detailed images of waking up next to her in the morning, of flashing a frothy smile at her while they brushed their teeth, of fixing her coffee and toast, of watching her put on makeup in their bedroom mirror.

And then there’s the way she was looking at him now, the tone of her voice as she says “and none with you,” soft smile spreading across her face, eyes expressing exactly what he’s feeling but they’re both too fucking petrified to say it.

So he leans down and kisses her softly, feeling the coldness of her nose against his cheek. The gloss has long since dried from her lips and they’re chapped from the wind, so he drags his tongue soothingly along their jagged ridges.

Billie hums and opens her mouth to him, his tongue quickly accepting the invitation. He runs it against hers, tasting the bitterness of the coffee, the sharpness of the whiskey, and the ever-present sweetness that’s just her.

She snakes her hands up under his jacket, then his hoodie, then his t-shirt, and he’s jumping at the feel of her icy fingertips. She giggles against his neck.

“I can’t believe you called Cybermen ‘sexy,’” he says into her hair.

“They are!” she replies, leaning back to look at him for emphasis. “So tall and broad and… commanding,” she finishes, tongue jutting through her teeth.

“That your type them?” he asks, stepping back to take another gulp of coffee, one hand lingering on her waist.

“I would’ve thought that was obvious,” she replies, picking up her mug as well.

“You were the one ordering me around, if I recall Friday night correctly,” he says, peering at her over his drink.

“A little instruction never hurt anyone,” she purrs, finishing her drink in two sips and forcefully returning it to the counter. “Beat ya.”

David finishes his coffee in one long pull and soon his mug is clattering on the countertop next to hers. He can tell by the flush in her cheeks that she’s tipsy – this was their fourth spiked coffee of the evening – and he’s suddenly struck with a brilliant idea.

“Where has everyone wandered off to?” he asks, eyes searching the door for locks.

“I think I heard them say something about popping over to the pub across the street,” she says, moving their mugs to the sink. “Why?” she asks, eyebrow cocked.

David walks to the door and secures the latched lock in place before testing that the door is secure. He turns, eyes scanning, and locates the video camera he’d deposited on the table. Picking it up, he turns it on, focusing its lens on her.

“Take off your jacket,” he says darkly, smirk betraying his tone.

“What!” she laughs, shaking her head at him.

“Do it,” he says walking closer, eyes focused on the camera’s tiny screen.

“Dave, we can’t,” she says quietly, eyeing the camera meaningfully.

He crosses the distance between them and pushes his hips flush against hers, pinning her against the counter. Letting the camera drop he brings his lips to hers, rougher this time, forcing her to keep up with the movements of his lips, the strokes of his tongue. He pushes a knee between her legs, eliciting a sigh, and decides to try again.

Stepping back a few paces, panting from the effects of the kiss, David raises the camera once more.

“I said, take off your jacket.”

Even on the small screen he can see how swollen and red her lips are, can make out the rises and falls of her chest and she takes in quick, shallow breaths. He raises his eyes from the screen to hers to find her staring at him, face expressionless, and he moves his thumb toward the off button when she raises her hand to the zipper of her coat.

David feels his mouth go slack as she pulls it downward and he wonders if he could actually hear the release of each metal tooth or if it was only in his mind. The corner of her mouth curves upward as she steps forward and lets the jacket fall of her shoulders, leather landing heavily on the floor.

It takes a few seconds for him to realize she’s waiting for his next instruction. His cock twitches in anticipation.

“Shirt next,” he says, clearing his throat.

She fingers the hem of the fabric, forearms crossed, and raises her eyebrows at him for confirmation. He nods and she slowly pulls her top upward, arching her back as she goes, and he can make out the dimples of her hips, the light ripple of her ribs, the swell of her breasts beneath her bra.

Bra, right, that has to go next.

Billie’s arms fall to her side as she lets the shirt flutter to the floor. David sort of nods at her bra and steps forward, needing to speed this process along, as sexy as it is.

“That wasn’t very commanding,” she teases, arms still limp at her side. He realizes she still thinks she’s holding all the cards. Well, he’ll have to prove otherwise.

“Take off your bra,” he says, moving even closer, focusing his gaze on the screen.

She reaches behind her back, unhooking the clasp, and shrugs her shoulders, letting the straps fall forward painstakingly slow. He sees a hand flash across the screen, grabbing the lacy black fabric and pulling it the rest of the way off, before realizing that it’s his. Well then.

He takes a step back to properly take in the sight before him, his mind briefly registering that she’s still in jeans and boots before honing in on her breasts, how fair her skin is in this light, how the pinkness of her nipples matches the flush of her cheeks, how they’re starting to peak and he knows it’s not on account of the cold.

He wonders how wet she is.

His cock jumps again.

“Now jeans,” he says, leaning against a small table in the middle of the room.

“You realize I’m going to be completely starkers and you still have all your clothes on,” she says smiling, as she undoes the fly of her trousers and begins to pull them down.

“Slower,” is his only reply and she obeys, never breaking eye contact as she lowers the denim over her thighs, knees, calves, until the fabric hits the floor. She undoes her boots while she’s bending and steps out of them, now standing before him in only knickers.

They’re his favorite knickers, he realizes, the ones that are so sheer she may as well not be wearing any knickers at all.

His cock grows harder and he has to know if she’s as turned on by this as he is. In two paces he’s in front of her, angling the lens of the camera downward between their bodies as he runs his fingers over her pants until only his wrist is in sight. He hopes the microphone picks up the faint sound of her gasp.

David chuckles as his fingers slip easily along the mesh of her knickers, her wetness gathering in the grooves of his fingerprints. He increases the pressure of his strokes and kisses her messily, needy tongue sliding over hers, groaning as she makes soft sounds at the back of her throat.

He reaches behind her and places the camera on the counter, hoping that at least part of them are in the shot, before closing his arms around her waist and crushing her to him. Caressing her sides, slick fingers of his right hand sliding over the valleys between her ribs, he grasps at every inch of skin he can reach.

Billie pushes him backwards and he huffs, but allows her to keep him at arm’s length as she unzips his jacket and hoodie, tossing them both to the floor. His shirt is next and then she’s sucking on that sensitive spot where his jaw meets his neck, and now he’s the one gasping, burying a hand in her hair.

She’s kissing her way lower, David sucking in air as her tongue swirls around one nipple, then the other. He releases her hair as she kisses below his belly button, hands unbuttoning his jeans.

He reaches blindly for the camera, eyes locked on her, until his fingers graze the strap and he’s pulling the device into his hands, facing it down toward her. Billie yanks his jeans and pants to his ankles, quickly untying his trainers, and he steps out of them both, kicking them aside.

She remains on her haunches, blinking up at him, rolling her eyes when she sees the camera back in his hands. He’s hard and inches from her face, but she just smirks.

“Bill,” he breathes, threading a hand through her hair again. She blinks.

Right. Commanding.

“Use your mouth.”

She reaches out and runs a hand lightly along his length, making his cock twitch again. He tugs lightly on her hair.

“Mouth.”

Her laugh is muffled as she encompasses his tip, tongue swirling twice before lowering her mouth as far as it will take him. She grips the back of his thigh and swallows around him, David closing his eyes with the effort it takes to refrain from thrusting into her throat.

She begins to move, speed guided by his fist tangled in her hair, her free hand stroking the part of him her mouth can’t reach, occasionally slipping lower to tease his balls. Every few moments she glances up at him, staring straight into the camera lens, and though her mouth is otherwise occupied he can see the smile in her eyes.

The third time she glances up she doesn’t look into the camera, but meets his eyes, and he’s pulling her up for a heated kiss, tasting the saltiness of pre-come on her lips. He’s painfully hard now, pressing into her stomach, and he gives up fighting the need to be inside her.

“Couch,” he breathes, and she maneuvers them toward the plush piece of furniture, stroking him lazily as they walk. “Lie down,” he says, when they reach the sofa, arousal erasing any timidity from his voice.

She lies on her back, stretching her arms above her on the cushions, keeping her knees locked. David zooms out, making sure every inch of her is visible in the camera’s viewfinder.

“Open your legs,” he says, feeling himself grow even harder as he speaks the words. She tilts her head and purses her lips, eyes gleaming, before slowly doing as he asked. Soon she’s spread before him, pink and glistening, and he’s kneeling by her feet on the cushion.

He thinks the camera is in focus as he slides his middle finger inside her, but at this point he hardly cares. Billie’s breath catches and she closes her eyes and he wishes they were on a multi-camera set so he wouldn’t miss a single expression on her face, not one decibel of sound coming from her lips.

But for now David keeps the camera honed in on the work at hand,  _his_ hand, now adding another finger and rubbing his thumb against her clit. She’s making steady noises now, soft gasps and low moans, so he moves the lens toward her face, catching the furrow of her brow and the flutter of her lashes as she arches off the cushions.

The look on her face as her head pushes back against the cushion, mouth fallen open, eyes closed, is what ultimately undoes him. He leans over her, not caring where the camera’s lens winds up, capturing her left nipple in his mouth.

She moans again, louder this time, as he swirls his tongue around the bud and sucking, feeling it grow harder in his mouth. He bites down gently, pinching pink flesh between his teeth, before moving to her other breast.

“I need you,  _unnhh_ , inside me,” she pants, pushing futilely against his chest.

“I thought I was the one giving orders?” he smirks, after releasing her nipple with a soft pop of suction.

“Tell me what to do.”

Rather than reply David returns to a kneeling position, roughly pulling her hips closer, angling the camera downward once more. Taking his cock in hand, he slides it along her, from entrance to clit, until Billie’s pulling at the fabric of the couch.

“What do you want?” he asks thickly.

“I told you,” she says in frustration, back arching as he continues his slow movements.

“Tell me again, Piper.” He’s surprised at the gruffness of his voice but it gets her attention, eyes flashing open and focusing on his.

“I want you to fuck me.”

With that he positions himself at her entrance, pushing one of her legs off the couch for better access, and this time he made sure the camera was perfectly focused. Slowly he inches inside her, eyes glued to her face as her eyes flutter shut again and her mouth falls open.

When he’s fully sheathed in her he pauses, taking a moment to regain control and to reach over and place the camera on the table, facing them. He could almost lose count of the number of times he’s slept with her now —  _almost_ — but each time still feels like his birthday multiplied by Christmas to the power of winning the lottery.

Gripping her hips he begins to move in slow, long thrusts, grunting as he pushes even deeper inside her. Billie whines and he knows she wants faster, wants harder, but he isn’t going to give her that just yet.

“Look at me,” he says, wrapping her leg around his back and leaning over her, supporting himself on his forearms. She opens her eyes and smiles at him as she gasps, pressing her heel against his bum to speed his movements, hands gripping his hips.

Releasing one hand from his waist she cups his face, pulling his lips toward hers. Their kiss is sloppy, breathy and wet as their tongues search for something in the other, as their lips spell out what they’re afraid to say.

Billie wraps her other leg around his waist and he’s pounding into her, giving her the force and friction she craves, and she pulls her mouth away to take in gulps of air, nails digging into his shoulder blades.

“Come for me, Bill” he says, reaching for the camera so he can catch the look on her face, the moment in time when she looks most beautiful, a moment he creates.

Her back arches off the couch again and he pushes himself into a kneeling position once more, steadying her with a hand on her stomach. She’s whimpering, sounding almost like a cry, and he knows she’s close.

Dragging his hand lower his fingers find her clit, lightly circling the nub before pressing firmly against it, stroking quickly. He’s learned she responds to this movement best, in the number of times they’ve slept together that he’s almost lost count of, and it proves true once again.

“ _Fuck_ ,” she moans before succumbing to the silence of her orgasm, chest tightening as she writhes against the cushion. David loves the seconds when she’s silent, when her breath catches, because he knows her world has narrowed to a point where it’s only her and him.

She takes in a loud breath and “ _Dave_ ” is on her lips, and he decides he loves that moment even more.

Quickly he pulls out of her and the slickness of his hand meets with the slickness of his cock as he finishes himself in three quick strokes – his world now narrowing to him and her – grunting as he comes on her stomach.

Finally, David turns off the camera and places it on the table. He leans over her, kissing her between pants, Billie giggling against his lips.

“Don’t move,” he whispers and trots off to the bathroom, returning with a warm dampened towel. He wipes her stomach clean and kisses the flesh there before climbing back on top of her, resting half of his body on her and half against the couch.

“Mm, you should take control like that more often,” she murmurs, kissing his shoulder.

“Thought you’d like that,” he says, tracing patterns on her stomach.

“But you know we have to erase that video, right?” she asks, lips forming a smirk. “Can’t risk a Doctor and Rose porn getting out there, can we?”

“Oh, we’ll erase it, sure… after we watch it.”

“Okay.”

“A few hundred times.”


End file.
